Simone settled onto the sofa. Aster dropped to the floor beside her, ridiculously attentive, as though sitting at the feet of some great master. Flávia took the other couch, arms crossed, eyes already glistening in silence. Fred lowered himself to the floor right next to me, facing our son.

“You can start, little bunny,” I said.

Jimi opened the book like he was performing a sacred rite. He always had that gift: drawing every eye in the room, even when he wasn’t trying. And he was good at ...